A ‘Prince of Abyssinia’ and a ‘Media Mogul’

Convicted rapist and murderer Thabo Bester in the Bloemfontein Magistrate’s court on April 14, 2023 after being brought back into South Africa from Tanzania. Picture: AFP

Convicted rapist and murderer Thabo Bester in the Bloemfontein Magistrate’s court on April 14, 2023 after being brought back into South Africa from Tanzania. Picture: AFP

Published May 9, 2023

Share

Gilbert Motsaathebe

Cape Town - There are striking similarities between the current story of convicted rapist and murderer Thabo Bester and another story involving a conman who stole large sums of money from unsuspecting South Africans in the 1930s.

In 1934, a man purporting to be the son of Emperor Haile Selassie and heir to the Abyssinian (present-day Ethiopia) throne arrived in South Africa with a startling story.

According to an article published by Drum Magazine in June 1981, the man using the name Prince Yusuf claimed that Italian Prime Minister Benito Mussolini was planning chemical warfare and that the poisonous gas would engulf the rest of South Africa.

He claimed that he had connections and could arrange the necessary protective gear for those who do not want to be killed by the gas.

He hurriedly formed a company and told people to invest so they could be supplied with the necessary safety equipment to ensure that they survive the fatal chemicals that the Italians were about to unleash.

His company however was not a property or media company. It was more like a political movement, called the African Legion.

As Drum reported “the legion was to fight to save South Africa from the Italians and in a massive recruitment drive recruits were told that poison gas would be used in the war and the smoke would fill South Africa.

“It [the gas] would kill everybody apart from those in the legion who would be specially equipped with protective uniforms (cost 2 pounds) and gas masks (2 pounds five shillings). Membership of the Legion cost 2 pounds five shillings”.

The money started coming in.

However, it turned out that Prince Yusuf was a big-time swindler. His name was not Yusuf either and he was not a prince. He was in fact a local South African by the name of David Kgobe.

Recently South Africans were absorbed in another riveting story of similar proportions if not bigger, involving convicted rapist and murderer Thabo Bester and his girlfriend Dr Nandipha, South Africa’s modern-day Bonnie and Clyde who arrived in Tanzania, with Bester posing as a US citizen, before being arrested and sent back to South Africa.

The interesting thing is that a year before, Bester, who was in jail for rape and murders, among other crimes, had launched a daring escape, leaving behind a trail of destruction, including a charred body and a doused cell.

It later emerged that he had been alive and well and living a lofty lifestyle in one of the leafy suburbs of Johannesburg and had been sleeping in the presidential suites of some of our most luxurious hotels, while many thought he was in prison.

Perhaps the first and obvious similarity between Prince Yusuf and Tom Motsepe alias TK Nkwana or Tommy William Kelly, is that both men were big-time fraudsters who were not afraid to come up with elaborate plans to con unsuspecting people.

Secondly, they both started companies and enticed people to invest large sums of money. Kgobe formed the African Legion while Bester formed 21st Century Media and ran Arum Properties.

They both recruited people who started investing in their respective companies. Tom recruited and ran the company.

They both went for an elaborate spectacle to launch their companies.

As the money started rolling in, Kgobe opted for a spectacle to launch the movement laden with glitz and glamour.

As Drum reported: “In a comic opera attempt at a show, the army began drilling, marching and counter-marching with sticks instead of rifles”.

Similarly, Bester organised a glitzy ceremony in Sandton and even appeared in a video link at his Women in Media Conference attended by some of the country’s A-Listers who belted out a rendition of a “Happy birthday” for Bester, apparently thinking he was Tom Motsepe, the company’s CEO.

In the case of Kgobe, he later slipped away from the country briefly, telling his members that he was being deported back to Ethiopia but that they must keep the Legion going.

But he was back in 1938 and started a new venture.

This time, he told followers he had a connection with an English wool manufacturer, claiming that their products were of good quality. He then started another company.

He flouted a company called the South African Mark Trading Corporation Ltd. A wide network of agents was set up and people bought shares in the new corporation.

But the amazing prince was not done yet. He told investors that he was forming a bank called the Bantu Bank and that he needed 10 000 pounds to get it off the ground. The investors were promised huge interest.

“Once again the money began flowing”.

It was only when members started to worry when they realised that there was still no sign of poison gas, that people started paying attention.

In the same breath, Bester had started at least two companies. Like Kgobe, Bester claimed that one of the concerns was a subsidiary of 21st Century Fox.

The two stories have all the hallmarks of a successful blockbuster, with compelling plots, unimaginable twists, suspense and daring and audacious characters. In both cases the odds are stacked against the main characters and the tension builds as our characters find their way, taking the audience on an elaborate journey of discovery.

As Bop Leshoi once wrote in a preface to my favourite youth novel Albatross Winter, although stories are not necessarily meant to teach us moral lessons, incidental lessons do happen.

Perhaps what we can learn from the two stories are the same old rules of thumb: do not believe everything that you hear; trust no one; rules are made to be broken; crime does not pay.

Motsaathebe, PhD is an NRF-rated Professor at the North-West University in the Indigenous Language Media in Africa (ILMA) research entity.

Cape Times